The pilgrims guide from the cradle to his death-bed with his glorious passage from thence to the New-Jerusalem, represented to the life in a delightful new allegory, wherein the Christian traveller is more fully and plainly directed than yet he hath been by any, in the right and nearest way to the celestial paradice : to which is added The sick-mans passing-bell : with no less than fifty several pleasant treatises ... : to these are annext, The sighs and groans of a dying man / by John Dunton ... ; illustrated with eight curious copper plates.

CHAP. VII. Shewing how the Pilgrim Combated with the Flesh.

WEll the World having thus bound me hand and foot, and left me for dead as it thought, yet I presently di••••ntangled my self; but then the Flesh (the second powerful enemy come undomi∣neering over me, to whom I soake as follows, ••iz. Oh! proud Philistine, how thou insultest ove•• me! Is th••••e ••n end of thy in••lice? no bound to thy fury? Wilt 〈…〉〈…〉 thy Mistress: and be a Comman∣der of t•••• Sy••••r••igness? Remember how thou wert

made to be a Servant and no Mistress: a Subject and no Princess. Imperious Agar, do me not this dishonour. I have a noble Guest which thou hast long time wronged: one who was full of beauty, before thou blemishedst it: of a graceful presence, before thou disfigur'd stit. O tell me, thou unthankful one, bow comes it, that thou shouldst thus dishonour her by whom thou livest; disparage her by whom thou breathest: Pray thee, vile and stinking Carrion, hast thou life from thy self, or from another? If from another, why dost thou not tender her that honour that may become her, and make thee worthy of her? O whither wouldst thou hale me, thou hateful intruder! what have I received from thee but misery: and shall I now incline unto thee, who have been so oft-times deceived by thy folly? Withhold those sinful em∣braces from me: they have already undone me, let them not intangle me in more misery. O that I were stript of thee; or that I had loathed those de∣lights which thou hast suggested to me! O why did I so tenderly cocker thee, thou baleful Cockatrice! And why did I not crush the Sepent in the Egg! Why did I not shun the occasion of sinning, and so pre∣vent the means of my undoing! O what had I from thee but sin! And what other fruit brought Sin forth but death! whence camest thou, O treache∣rous Flesh, O my Darling Foe: and from whence was thy beginning? From Clay, vile Clay was thy Creation: from whence I received every clammy and earthy affection. Thou drewest my thoughts from Heaven to Earth; that I might be more like thy self, who tookest thy ma••erial Creation from Earth.

Therefore be gone, be gone, Oh Enemy Flesh, for I'll travel on in spight of thee to ••••nder Glory; and what will become of thee then! And moreover when I am dead, how will thy Honour lie in the

Dust? how wilt thou then be a stinking Carrion full of misery and corruption, meat for Worms. And alas, my Foe, how neatly so ever thou now art tricked, trimmed, tyred and gallantly armed, yet thou art no more but Flesh: and know that Flesh, and the beauty thereof is as the flower of the Field. And therefore I'de have thee to know, I'll not be hindred in my Journey by thee, if I can subdue thee.

But now give me leave to talk a little with thee, O deceitful Flesh! And first resolve me, if ever I came into any place before I began my Travels to the New Jerusalem, wherein I could promise to my self peace. Nay even in this populous City of Silesia, I cannot take my walk in any Screet, wherein I am not subject to be taken by thy alluring deceit. Thou sendest forth those two light Spies, to purvey and bring in Objects of lust; by these am I wounded, by these do I suffer a continual Combat. Neither are these wounds cured yet; tho' my youth has left me; and tho' the daily Messengers of Death sum∣mon me. For, tho I be nearer my Grave, I fear I am little richer in Grace. Tho those follies of my youth have now left me- (and wo is me that I did not leave them before they left me) yet other aged maladies grow strong in me; against which I must prepare my self for the encounter, or I am undone for ever. Would you hear what my Distempers are They are these: Tho few be my hours; hoary my hairs (and my Journey long I have to go by a setting Sun) yet am I as numerous in my worldly cares, as if I were but even now entring into the World. I cannot without an envious eye see my Neighbours Field flourish; others prosperity gives me occasion of repining: others adversity grounds of rejoycing. Honour I would have, ••et can I hardly support my self, much less that Honour which is conferred on me: and all this is occas••oned by thee.

And alas, tho now in my Pilgrimage I carry about me constant Companions of Mortality, as Aches, Agues, Cramps and Coughs, which are the Livery of a travelling Pilgrim, and tho Death waits at the Wicket, and lies in Ambush in what House soever I lodge, and in what path soever I walk, to seize me, or to bid me come away, and leave the World, and pre∣pare for a Shrowding Sheet; yet have I a months mind to be greater, or richer, or more eminent in the eyes of others, as if I could dispense with age, or make a truce with death; and all this is oc∣casioned by thy false suggestions, Oh sinful flesh.

Therefore oh sigh and groan poor unhappy Pilgrim, take thy self now into the Ballance; weigh and examine thy self: Let not one hour pass over thee without a sigh; not a minute without a sob. Take away the force of this Engine, this fearful Ba∣silisk, with incessant Rivers of tears: Thou hast yet a little time left thee; bestow not one moment of it, but to Gods glory. See how every minute thou art nearer unto death; how the Messengers of the Grave tell thee thou canst not live long. There is not the least grain of sand which passeth through this Cre∣vit of thine Hour-glass, but may assure thee that thou art hasting on to the Sepulcher of thy Fathers. Canst thou then find any time to game, play and sport thy self, or to hearken to the Temptations of World or Flesh.